How To Save A Life
by GoldenMarauder
Summary: They save people regularly, but can they save one the most important people to them?


"I mean, come on. You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you." I hear Sam say from my position in the back of the Impala.  
"You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. I need you to help us find him." Dean says, and I roll my eyes at their arguing.  
"You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine." Sam says, and I can't help but nod in agreement with that one.  
"Not for this long. Now are you gonna come with us or not?" I ask, poking my head out the window.  
"I'm not." Sam says and I frown a little.  
"Why not?" Dean asks, crossing his arms in a macho kinda way.  
"I swore I was done hunting. For good." Sam says in a very, very serious tone.  
"Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad." Dean says, kinda shoving his shoulder.  
"Yeah? When Ebony told Dad she was scared of the thing in her closet, he gave her a .45." Sam says in an exasperated tone.  
"Well, what was he supposed to do?" I ask, still hanging out of Dean's car.  
"You were nine years old! He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark." Sammy says, now sounding rather frustrated.  
"Don't be afraid of the dark? Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there." I say in a what are you smoking tone.  
"Yeah, I know, but still. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her." Sam says and I roll my eyes. "But we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find."  
"We save a lot of people doing it, too." Dean says and I mentally go BOOM roasted.  
"You think Mom would have wanted this for us?" Sam asks us, and silence hangs in the air. "The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? we were raised like warriors."  
"So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?" I ask, since he's now kinda pissing me off.  
"No. Not normal. Safe." Sam states and once again I roll my eyes.  
"And that's why you ran away." Dean says in a harsh tone.  
"I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing." Sam tells him.  
"Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it." I say, my voice giving away how truly worried I am.  
"We can't do this with you, Sammy." Dean says.  
"Yeah, you can." Sam replies with a bit of an attitude.  
"yeah, but we don't want to." I reply, sending the attitude right back at him.  
"What was he hunting?" Sam asks, after a few moments if thought. Sam follows Dean to the back of the Impala, to the arsenal.  
"All right, let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?" Dean mutters, mostly to himself.  
"So when Dad left, why didn't you two go with him?" Sam asks us.  
"We were working our own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans." Dean replies.  
"Dad let you two go on a hunting trip by yourselves?" Sam asks, clearly astonished.  
"Dude, I'm 26." Dean replies in a duh tone.  
" Yeah, but Ebony is 16." Sam sends back in the same tone, but Dean ignores that.  
"All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy." Dean says, handing Sam a paper I had seen about 100 times. "They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA."  
"So maybe he was kidnapped." Sam says and I roll my eyes.  
"There was another one in April." I say from the car.  
"Another one in December 'oh-four, 'oh-three, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two, ten of them over the past twenty years." Dean says, taking the paper back from Sam.  
"All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road." I state.  
"It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. We haven't heard from him since, which is bad enough."  
"Then we get this voicemail yesterday." I say and Dean presses play on the hand held recorder.  
"Dean...Ebony...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, both of you. We're all in danger." Dad's voice says over the static and EVP.  
"You know there's EVP on that?" Sam says and Dean chuckles a little.  
"Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Dean asks jokingly and Sam shakes his head.  
"All right. Ebony slowed the message down, ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what she got." Dean says , hitting play again.  
"I can never go home." A woman' voice says.  
"Never go home." Sam repeats, and in a flash Dean has the trunk closed and is leaning against it.  
"You know, in almost two years we've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing." Dean says, pulling the guilt trip.  
"All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him." Sam says, and Dean nods. "But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here." He finishes and heads back towards the apartment.  
"What's first thing Monday?" I call from the car.  
"I have this...I have an interview." Sam says.  
"What, a job interview? Skip it." Dean says in a rather careless tone  
"It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate." Sam replies, almost sounding hurt and proud at the same time.  
"Law school?" I ask, sounding genuinely interested and Dean just smirks at Sam. So I poke half my body out the window and smack him up side the head, giving him a stop it glare.  
"So we got a deal or not?" Sam asks, sounding anxious.  
"Yep!" I reply, still glaring at Dean.

A few hours later

From just under my arm I can see that Sam is sitting in the shotgun seat with the door open, rifling through a box of tapes.  
"Hey!" Dean shouts, making me jump slightly. "You want breakfast?"  
"No, thanks." Sam says, and Dean shrugs throwing a bag of gummy bears at me.  
"So how'd you pay for that stuff?" Sam asks as I sit up. "You and Dad still running credit card scams?"  
"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career." Dean replies, as he finishes filling up the car. "Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards." He finishes and I kinda laugh.  
"Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asks, swinging his legs back inside the car and closing the door.  
"Uh, Burt Aframian." Dean says, and laugh a little more. "And his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal." Dean says setting his "breakfast" down before closing the car door. Right before he starts the car, he hands me back an energy drink  
"That sounds about right. I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection." Sam says, choosing to ignore what just happened. Even though he knows caffeine and I do not mix well, at least off others.  
There are at least a dozen cassettes in the box on Sam's lap, all of which are pretty good.  
"Why?" Dean asks, like a mother protecting their child.  
"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two," Sam says, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" He ask holding up a cassette for each band he names.  
Kinda chuckling to myself I watch as Dean snatches the one labelled Metallica from him.  
"It's the greatest hits of mullet rock." Sam says, and I choke on a gummy bear from laughing.  
"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean says, popping the cassette in the player. "Driver picks the music, shotgun and back seat shuts their cakeholes." Dean adds giving me a look from the rear view mirror, to which I respond with a smirk.  
"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old." Sam states. "It's Sam, okay?"  
"Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud." Dean practically shouts.

"Thank you." Sam says closing his phone. "All right. So, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue." He finishes and I nod, taking mental note of that.  
"So that's something, I guess." Dean says, glancing at Sam then back to the road. It looks like we are coming up on a bridge that is crawling with police.  
"Check it out." Dean says, and both Sam and I lean closer for a better look.  
SAM leans forward for a closer look.  
Dean pulls over, and we take a long look before He turns off the engine. Dean opens the glove compartment and pulls out a box full of ID cards with his, mine, and Dad's faces. He picks one out and grins at Sam, who stares.  
Let's go." I say climbing from the car, taking my badge from. Below us are two men poking around in wet suits.  
"You guys find anything?" One man shouts.  
"No! Nothing!" A wetsuit replies.  
"No sign of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless. It's almost too clean." A third man says, sounding utterly confused.  
Sam and Dean walk into the crime scene like they belong there, and I follow behind "So, this kid Troy. He's dating your daughter, isn't he?" The first man asks the third.  
"Yeah."the third man replies rather remorseful.  
"How's Amy doing?" The first man asks.  
"She's putting up missing posters downtown."the third states.  
You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean interrupts to ask. The first man straightens up when he sees dean, trying to look intimidating.  
"And who are you?" He asks Dean.  
"Federal marshals." Dean replies, flashing his badge.  
"You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you?"  
"Thanks, that's awfully kind of you." Dean says, laughing, then walks over to the car.  
"You did have another one just like this, correct?" He says, restating his earlier question.  
"Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that." The guy replies.  
"So, this victim, you knew him?" I ask,and he nods.  
"Town like this, everybody knows everybody." He says and I nod in understanding as Dean circles the car.  
"Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?" Sam asks and the officer shakes his head.  
"No. Not so far as we can tell."  
"So what's the theory?" Sam asks leading me back over to Dean, the officer or deputy following behind.  
"Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?" He suggests.  
"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." Dean says and I stomp on his foot.  
"Thank you for your time." I say politely, with a smile, and begin walking away.  
"Gentlemen." Sam says and follows me, dean trailing behind us both kind of limping. The officer watches us go and then I feel Dean's hand collide with my head.  
"Ow! What was that for?" I exclaim rather shocked.  
"Why'd you have to step on my foot?" He asks, mocking my tone.  
"Why do you have to talk to the police like that?" Sam says, stepping in to defend me. Dean looks at Sam, and steps in front of him, forcing Sam to stop walking.  
"Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves."Dean says and Sam begins clearing his throat looking over Dean's shoulder  
"Can I help you?" The sheriff asks us.  
"No, sir, we were just leaving." I reply once again in a polite tone. Two FBI agents walk past us and Dean nod to each of them.  
"Agent Mulder. Agent Scully." He says and Sam start shoving him past the sheriff who is watching us go.  
"I'll bet you that's her." Dean says.  
"Yeah." Sam replies, leading us towards her.  
"You must be Amy." I say in a friendly tone.  
"Yeah." She replies sounding apprehensive.  
"Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy. And this is Ebony, his cousin."  
"He never mentioned you to me." Amy says, giving us a quizzical look,and begins walking away. Naturally, we start following her.  
"Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto." Dean says in a light tone.  
"So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around." Sam says faking concern.  
A girl walks up to Amy, putting her hand on her arm.  
"Hey, are you okay?" She asks her.  
"Yeah." Amy replies, her voice kind of dead panning.  
"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" Sam asks her.  
Another poster that says MISSING TROY SQUIRE flaps in the breeze.  
A few minutes later we're all in a diner sitting around a taxable.  
"I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did." Amy says, sounding heart broken.  
"He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" I ask delicately, and Amy shakes her head.  
"No. Nothing I can remember." She replies, looking at the table.  
"I like your necklace." Sam points out and I notice it's a pentagram.  
"Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents—" she says with a laugh."—with all that devil stuff."  
S-m laughs a little and looks down, then up. Both Dean and I look over.  
"Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." Sam says and Dean rolls his eyes.  
"Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries." Dean replies sarcastically, and I'm overwhelmed by the need to whack him in the head, but refrain.  
"Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything..." Dean says intensely leaning forward, and both Amy and Rachel look at each other.  
"What is it?" Dean asks.  
"Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk." Rachel says, her voice trailing off.  
"What do they talk about?" Sam and I ask together.  
"It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Rachel says, nonchalantly.  
I look to Sam and Dean who are both watching attentively, Sam nodding a little.  
"Well, supposedly she's still out there." Rachel says and Sam nods more.  
"She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever." Rachel finishes, and the three of us look at each other.  
SAM and DEAN look at each other.

We. Have a web browser is open to the archive search page for the Jericho Herald. The words "Female Murder Hitchhiking" are typed into the search box. Dean clicks GO; the screen tells him there are "(0) Result". I watch as Dean replaces "Hitchhiking" with "Centennial Highway" with the same response.  
"Let me try." Sam says and Dean smack his hand.  
"I got it." Dean says sounding territorial. So Sam just shoves his chair put of the way and takes over.  
"Dude!" Dean says hitting Sam in the shoulder  
"You're such a control freak." I mutter under my breath.  
"So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?" Sam asks.  
"Yeah, so then maybe it's not murder." I say shoving Sam out of the way.  
I replace Murder" with "Suicide" and finds an article entitled "Suicide on Centennial". Dean glances at Sam. I poem. the article, dated April 25, 1981.  
A local woman's drowning death was ruled a suicide, the county Sheriff's Department said earlier today. Constance Welch, 24, of 4636 Breckenridge Road,leapt off Sylvania Bridge, at mile 33 of Centennial Highway, and subsequently drowned last night.  
Deputy J. Pierce told reporters that, hours before her death, Ms. Welch logged a call with 911 emergency services. In a panicked tone, Ms. Welch described how she found her two young children, 5 and 6, in the bathtub, after leaving them alone for several [minutes]. She reported that their complex-[...]  
What happened to my children was a terrible accident. And it must have been too much for my wife. Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it," said husband Joseph Welch. "Now I ask that you all please respect my privacy during this trying time."  
At the time of the children's death and Ms. Welch's subsequent suicide, Mr. Welch was at the Frontier auto salvage yard, where he works the graveyard shift as associate manager.  
"Connie might have been quiet, but she was the sweetest, most caring girl I ever knew," said Deanna Kripke, a neighbor. "She just doted on those children."  
"This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river." I say and look at the picture of the woman.  
"Does it say why she did it?" Sam asks.  
"Yeah." I reply nodding.  
"What?" Dean asks.  
"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die." I say and see Dean raise his eyebrows.  
"Hm." Dean says.  
"'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch." Sam reads off over my shoulder.  
"The bridge look familiar to you?" Dean asks pointing to the picture.

We're walking along the bridge and I stop to look over the edge at the river.  
"So this is where Constance took the swan dive." I say.  
"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks and I look back up, over at him and Dean.  
"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him." Dean says and continues walking, Sam and I trailing after him.  
"Okay, so now what?" Sam asks.  
"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while." Dean says and Sam stops in his tracks, making me actually run into him  
"Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—" Sam says and neither of them notice me.  
"Monday. Right. The interview." Dean says.  
"Yeah." Sam says and I just shake my head.  
"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean asks.  
"Maybe. Why not?" Sam asks in reply.  
"Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?" Dean asks and Sam steps closer.  
"No, and she's not ever going to know." Sam says, almost threatening Dean.  
"Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are." I say from behind him and he doesn't really reply, just starts walking.  
"And who's that?" Sam asks, in a rather biting tone.  
"You're one of us." I say and shrug a little.  
Sam turn to face me now.  
"No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life." He says, and I'm Ctually rut.  
"Like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean Sam? Like me? I didn't ask for this any more than you did. You have a responsibility to—" I say but Sam cuts me off.  
"To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back." Sam says and then Dean grabs Sam pushing him up against the bridge.  
"Don't talk her like that, or about mom like that." Dean says, practically snarling at Sam.  
Dean releases Sam and I look away from them both and see Constance.  
"Sam, Dean..." I say my voice trailing off as we watch her look over at us, and then step off the bridge. Both Sam and Dean rush to the edge looking over.  
"Where'd she go?" Dean asks.  
"I don't know.  
Behind us the Impala's engine starts and its headlights come on and we all turn to look.  
"What the—" Dean says, sounding alarmed.  
"Who's driving your car?" I ask, trying hide how startled I am.  
Dean pulls the keys out of his pocket and jingles them. Sam and I glance at them, then the car jerks into motion, heading straight for us. Without hesitation, we all turn and run.

The car is moving faster than we are; when it gets too close, We. All dive over the railing and the car comes to a halt.  
Both Sam and Dean caught themselves on the edge of the bridge and are hanging on. They both pull themselves over and look around.  
"Ebony? Ebony!" Sam shouts, as I pull my self from the water and onto the mud. I'm absolutely filthy and annoyed. I flop onto the mud panting.  
"What?" I call back looking up at both of them on the bridge.  
"Hey! Are you all right?" Dean calls, trying to hide his laughter.  
"I'm just peachy." I say and they both laugh.  
A few minutes later I'm back on the bridge and Dean slams the good of his car shit and leans against it.  
"Your car all right?" Sam asks him.  
"Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!" Dean says, sounding thoroughly pissed.  
"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So where's the job go from here, genius?" I ask, crossing my filthy arms.  
"You smell like a toilet." Dean says in retaliation.  
"Let's just get to a motel." I say, clearly not in the mood.  
An hour later, we're in a motel.  
"Two rooms, please." Dean asks the clerk, both Sam and I are standing behind him, as he hands her the Hector Aframian card. The clerk picks up the card and looks at it.  
"You guys having a reunion or something?" The clerk asks.  
"What do you mean?" Sam asks.  
"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month." The clerk responds.  
We all look at each other for a moment.

The next day we decide to break into dad's motel room. The motel door swings open. I'm on the other side, having just picked the lock. I hide the picks and stand up. Sam and Dean are just outside, playing lookout, until I reach out of the room to grab their shoulders and yank them inside. Sam closes the door behind us. We all look around—every vertical surface has papers pinned to it: maps, newspaper clippings, pictures, notes. There are books on the desk and assorted junk on the floor and bed, including something with a hazardous-materials symbol.  
"Whoa."  
Dean turns on a light by the bed and picks up a half-eaten hamburger sitting there. I step over a line of salt on the floor. Dean sniffs the burger and recoils.  
"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least." Dean says  
I finger the salt on the floor and lookup.  
"Salt, cats-eye shells...he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in." I say and Sam looks at the papers covering one wall.  
"What have you got here?" Dean asks.  
"Centennial Highway victims."  
Both Dean and I victims seen on the wall include Mark somebody, William Durrell, Scott Nifong who disappeared in 1987 at age 25, and somebody Parks. Mark, Durrell, and Nifong are all white males, judging by the photos.  
"I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs—" I say and Sam crosses the room. "—ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"  
While I was talking, Sam and Dean were looking at the papers taped to the other walls. There's something about the Bell Witch, two people being burned alive, a skeletal person blowing a horn at several scared people with the note "MORTIS DANSE", a column about "Devils + Demons", another about "Sirens, Witches, the possessed", a wooden pentacle, and a note that says "Woman in White" above a printout of the Jericho Herald article on Constance's suicide. Sam flicks on another lamp.  
"Dad figured it out." Sam says and both Dean and I look at him.  
"What do you mean?" Dean asks.  
"He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white." I say, making the same connection Sam did.  
"You sly dogs." Dean mutters.  
"All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it." Sam says.  
"She might have another weakness." I state.  
"Well, Dad would want to make sure." Dean says.  
"He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?" I ask, siting down on the bed.  
"No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask her husband." Dean says, putting down a paper he'd recently lifted up.  
"If he's still alive." Sam says in an ominous tone.  
"All right. Why don't you two, uh, see if you can find an address, I'm gonna get cleaned up." I say and start walking away.  
"Hey, Dean, Ebony?" Sam asks and I turn back.  
"What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, and you Ebony, I'm sorry." He says, sounding sincere. Dean holds up his hand.  
"No chick-flick moments." He says.

"Sam! Sam! You okay?" I shout after watching the impala drive through an old house.  
"I think..." He says  
"Can you move?" Dean asks.  
"Yeah. Help me?" Sam asks and both Dean and I help out of the car.  
"There you go." Dean says then shuts the car door. We all look around and then I notice Constance, holding a picture frame. She glares at us and throws the picture down. A large bureau scoots towards us pinning against the car. The lights flicker; and she looks around, scared. Water begins to pour down the staircase. She goes over. At the top are the two little kids from the photograph. They're holding Hans and speaking together.  
"You've come home to us, Mommy." They say in their creepy child voices, that will probably haunt my already too current nightmares.  
She looks at them, distraught. Suddenly they are behind her; they embrace her tightly and she screams, her image flickering. In a surge of energy, still screaming, Constance and the two kids melt into a puddle in the floor. Sam and Dean shove the bureau over and go look at the spot where Constance and her kids vanished.  
"So this is where she drowned her kids." Dean says and I'm just sitting on the ground, trying to catch my breath since that bureau crushed me.  
"That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them." Sam says nodding.  
"You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy." I say from the Lund and Dean slaps Sammy right where she start digging her hand into him. Sammy laughs, even though it had to have hurt.  
"Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?" He asks Dean.  
"Hey. He saved your ass." I say.  
"Language!" Sam and Dean say together and I roll my eyes getting up.  
"I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?" Dean says in a threatening tone. "I'll kill you." And both Sam and I bust into laughter.

"The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there."I hear Sam say as I'm about to fall asleep again.  
"Yeah. Yeah, whatever." Dean says sounding disappointed. "I'll take you home."  
I spring up, although tiredly and throw my arms around Sam.  
"Good luck at your interview. Just don't forget about us when you're a big shot lawyer." I say and hug him for a second longer before collapsing back into the back seat, falling back to sleep.


End file.
